She was in the blue kimono over her nightgown, and when I got back into bed—for it was too early for breakfast—sat down on the edge of the couch and told me that she had decided to accept Mrs. Ferguson’s offer to send her to Europe.
I had expected some move but hadn’t dared to hope for this. It was impossible to hide my agitation, to wipe the expression of startled excitement off my face. She paid no attention to me, would not have noticed if I had fallen flat in a dead faint, so engrossed was she in her plans. Staring out of the window with narrowed far-seeing eyes, she developed her program, oblivious of the fact that I was not answering, more like a person thinking aloud than one consulting another. When she finally paused, I said hoarsely, afraid to believe it:
“Mrs. Ferguson may have changed her mind. You wouldn’t hear of the offer when she made it.”
She treated the suggestion as preposterous.
“What an idea! Who ever heard of any woman changing her mind on such a subject.”
“You’ve changed yours,” I answered faintly.
“I’m different, and besides I’ve changed it for the better. She’ll be only too glad to send me. Why think of what it means to her! She’ll be known as the patron of one of the greatest living prima donnas. That’s a thing that doesn’t happen to everybody. Is the morning paper down-stairs? I want to see what steamers are leaving this week. I’ll go as soon as I can get off. Oh, I won’t meet anybody, and it doesn’t matter if I do.”
The door closed on her and I fell back on the pillows like a marionette whose wire has broken. Limp as a rag I lay looking up at the ceiling, and out of my mouth issued a sigh that was almost a groan. It was all I had power for. The tension snapped, I suddenly felt myself invaded by a lassitude so deep, so vast that it went to the edges of the world and lapped over. I would like to have been removed to a far distance and lain under a tree and watched the leaves without moving or thinking or speaking. I would like to have stayed in bed and looked at the dusty circle of cement flowers from which the chandelier hung, for years and years.
She came hastening back with the paper, tore it apart, and spreading it on the table read the shipping advertisements. Several steamers were due to sail within the week. She decided on the best and throwing the paper on the floor, said briskly:
“I’ll see her about it this morning before she goes out. There’s no need to bother about it before breakfast. I’ll just take a cup of coffee down here with you and then go up and dress. Let’s get it now.”